


You’re so small

by Muzuki_chan



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: implied shizaya...?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muzuki_chan/pseuds/Muzuki_chan
Summary: Prompt 25, “You’re so small.”





	You’re so small

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demon_Hades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_Hades/gifts).



The wintry morning light was grey like dusty window panes and the semi-bare trees surrounding the college dorm house were like gnarled hands reaching up against the cloudy sky. The electric stove clock in the kitchen blared bright neon green numbers of seven forty-five as a half-dressed, sleep deprived Shizuo walked in. A hand raked through his disheveled hair aimlessly as he yawned, sleepy tears peeking from the corner of his eyes as he did so.

 

The stagnant air of the house was freezing cold due to the broken A/C, but Shizuo barely felt the chilly air nipping his skin as he lumbered into the kitchen dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants that hung low around his waist. Stumbling with still half-closed eyes, Shizuo steadied himself against one of the kitchen cabinets as the thought of the upcoming winter break filled him with nostalgia and a surging crave for tea.

 

Shizuo chuckled at the mere thought of tea; he tried to make tea once back in high school - it was his first time, and he had unfortunately ended up burning the tea kettle somehow.

 

He can remember that memory easily in comparison to how quickly he can remember the feeling of the icy draft that crept inside the house as a result of unnecessary open and closing of the doors inside the dorm. But with the memory, the feeling of homesickness crawled in as he remembered his family back home; ever wondering of how many of Kasuka’s plays and auditions that he had missed or if his mother still read those miscellaneous tabloids on Tuesday mornings after his father went to work.

 

He shook his head to remove the notion that had brought forth the gut-churning guilt that intermingled with homesickness. The thought of his family could come later, but right now, Shizuo needed some warm tea to revitalize himself before he got back to studying. It was his first year in college after all, and he didn’t want to fail the upcoming tests before the start of winter break. Shizuo fumbled through the kitchen, one hand rubbing the sleep away from his eyes while the other hand blindly searched through the many kitchen cabinets for a tea kettle.

 

Eventually, Shizuo found himself on all fours and glaring into a small, opened cabinet. In the far back, hidden efficiently behind messy stacks of pots and pans lied a maroon-colored tea kettle. A start of a scowl appeared on his lips as his brows furrowed in frustration. The damn opening of the cabinet was much too small for his large frame to scoot in and grab the kettle. And not for the first time, Shizuo disliked his overly large build.

 

Just as Shizuo made another move to reach inside and make a grab for the kettle again, an icy finger drew down his bare torso before gliding up against the knobs of his spine.

 

“What the fucking hell was–!”

 

Shizuo knocks his forehead against the cabinet frame as the drawl of a cold finger brings his attention back to high-alert. Getting back onto his feet in a flurry and a flail of arms to knock against whoever decided to touch his spine, Shizuo finds that the person has dodged his arms with a fluid evasion of stepping back. Eyes shooting daggers at the new individual, Shizuo can’t help but label the offending college student with a name: Fucking louse. Shizuo knows most of the students within the dorm house - has already met and somehow befriended them all - except for one, Orihara Izaya.

 

And it doesn’t take a genius to connect the strange name to the equally strange individual standing in front of him.

 

The man’s garnet eyes gleam with mirth, his fingers tugging on the ribbed-cuff of his black sweatshirt that covers up the top of his athletic shorts. The small curl of a smirk on his lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Shizuo as the man takes a sweeping side-step around the blond male to peer down at the open cabinet. “Are you looking for something?”

 

Shizuo can’t really explain why Izaya’s - the raw expectation of having no doubts of this guy being Orihara Izaya is quite high - eyes rub him the wrong way, but there is something completely provoking on how he holds himself. His brown eyes glint red underneath the kitchen light and it sends an unsettling emotion of dislike clambering deep inside Shizuo’s guts when Izaya leans back against the wooden cabinets with a pompous attitude floating around him. When Shizuo remembers the male asking a question, the answer comes out rough and tumbles off his tongue like rough sand paper against the roof of his mouth, “No.”

 

“…Oh, really?” The raven gives off a heavily pronounced shrug as he drawls out a loud  _‘alright then, more tea for me’_ , and kneels down to where Shizuo knelt originally five minutes ago on all fours.

 

Izaya reaches inside, almost crawling as his arms reach out to grab the kettle and Shizuo’s eyes graze against the sliver of fair-skinned flesh that peaks out from below the bottom of his sweatshirt. His cheeks flame with a slow, simmering heat as the thin waist wriggles coyly as a flash of back dimples tempt him with heavy thoughts.

 

_'It’s completely normal to have those’_ , Shizuo reasons to himself as his attention wavers between Izaya’s back dimples and the oncoming taste of tea that he silently craves for. But the light dusting of pink on his cheeks - that are barely noticeable under the kitchen light - refuse to leave despite his reasoning as well as the added thought that he has back dimples of his from working out so much.

 

Soon enough, Izaya crawls back out with an elegant grace of swerving back onto his feet with no help of his hands. He holds the kettle on his left hand while the other hand makes a quick adjustment of his sweatshirt that had previously ridden up his waist. A devious grin takes place on his expression in place of the smirk Shizuo had caught sight of before, and a haughty look is sent his way before Izaya traipses to the sink.

 

One of his brow rises questioningly as he fills up the kettle with water. It’s not much of just a raise of a brow though, not when the man’s smirk is still splayed across his lips and the haughty, leering look in his eyes only gleams brighter the longer he stares at Shizuo. A jolt of electricity clambers down Shizuo’s spine to where it nestles in his gut as if Izaya’s look is a challenge of some sort. Even though it isn’t a challenge, Shizuo can’t help but feel provoked by the man’s every languid movement and gesture.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want some tea?”

 

The words are stuck in Shizuo’s throat when his eyes take in another glance of the man standing before him. Izaya’s black sweatshirt hangs loosely off his frame from being one size larger than it should be, and it enhances the dip of his collar bones as well as the paleness of his skin that shines with temptation to be touched. He can’t arrange the words in his mind correctly despite knowing that he wants tea, but Shizuo can’t help but stumble over the sentences of his thoughts of what he wants to say.

 

And seconds before Izaya can open his mouth and possibly repeat his question, Shizuo beats him to it with a horrible realization that the words he didn’t want to say comes out instead:

 

“You’re so small.”


End file.
